


Meeting Old Friends For The First Time

by Clowns_or_Midgets



Series: The Sound Of Silence [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4038457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clowns_or_Midgets/pseuds/Clowns_or_Midgets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is forced to realize he needs help, and he takes Sam and Dean along to meet an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting Old Friends For The First Time

**_Meeting Old Friends For The First Time_ **

 

John wasn’t used to staying in one place for more than a few weeks these days. When the boys were younger, he’d try to stay in an area—school district—for as long as he could manage so they didn’t get dragged in and out of schools too often during a single year. Dean had never cared much, school was a waste of time as far as he was concerned, but Sam had kicked up a fuss every time. When they finished school and Sam went away, it became common for John and Dean to drop into a town for only a few days to take care of a hunt before moving on. Dean always seemed happy, even eager, to move on, too, so John was surprised that he didn’t seem to mind that they’d been at Bobby’s place for a month now, and there was no sign of them moving on anytime soon. He guessed it was Sam. Dean would do anything for his brother, he always had, and what Sam needed right now was stability. John knew that, he understood it, but it didn’t stop his feet from itching to get out of there. To his credit, Bobby made sure they felt welcome. The last time they’d come face to face, Bobby had leveled a shotgun at John and threatened to load him full of buckshot if he didn’t get out of there fast—the tumultuous end to the worst fight John and Bobby had ever had. He had always cared about the boys though; John was pretty sure that was why he’d put up with him for so long.

It wasn’t just habit that had John wanting to move on. It was need. He was a man on a mission. He’d thought that his hatred of the demon that had stolen Mary away had reached its peak, that he could never hold more hatred for it, but he was wrong. That demon had lured Sam into the burning house, no doubt to kill him, and it had almost worked. He’d almost lost his son to the fire. As it was, he’d lost a part of his son that he never thought possible—his spirit.

Like his mother, Sam was a force of nature. He was passionate and brilliant and clever, but all that had been stolen from him along with his voice. He drifted from room to room, silent and sad, and Dean followed him. There was no more laughter, no conversation, no life… Sam was a changed man.

Dean seemed to struggle with the change in Sam more than any of them. They’d always been close, but John thought their years apart, the years Sam had spent at Stanford, would’ve changed that. It was the opposite. Something must have happened in the year that they spent hunting together. They were closer than ever before. In some ways that was a good thing. That closeness lent Dean an ability to understand his brother that John didn’t share; they could communicate without words in some basic, stilted way. John was almost jealous of the bond, but he saw the way it affected Dean. Sam wasn’t the only brilliant and clever one, but the longer Sam spent in silence, the dimmer that light in Dean seemed, too. It was as if his voice had also been stolen, though he could still talk.

It made John more determined than ever before to end the demon that had tried to destroy his family, which is why he was sitting on the back steps, listening to a voicemail on his phone that was months old.

_“John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn; you know I can help you. Call me.”_

He sighed as he dropped the phone to his lap again. He knew he should go, but the thought of facing her after all these years was daunting. She was a widow, her daughter without a father, because of him. He’d done a lot of good in his life, saved a lot of people, but that didn’t cancel out the mistakes he had made.

“Dad?”

He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard Dean’s approach. He started visibly before he tucked his phone back in his pocket and looked at his son. Worry was creasing Dean’s brow and his eyes were soft, questioning.

Things had been tense between them for weeks now, ever since Sam got out of the hospital. John had been searching the streets for some sign of Sam when Dean had called and said they were at Bobby’s. He’d done a u-turn and headed back to Bobby’s place, anger building inside of him as he drove. Sam was supposed to be in the hospital. He thought Dean would support him in this if anyone would, but he was wrong. He’d arrived to find Sam sleeping on the couch and Dean watching over him with a hard look in his eyes. Before John had said more than ‘what’s he doing here?’, Dean had launched into an explanation of how Sam wanted to be out of the hospital and they weren’t making him go back. John hadn’t known then, he hadn’t understood the bond between his boys. He hadn’t seen how Dean thought he could talk for Sam. That knowledge had come later. He’d demanded that Sam be taken back, but then Sam had woken. He’d sat, stony-faced with his arms crossed, shaking his head like he was a baby again, refusing to eat his strained peas. John had wheedled, explained, guilt-tripped and eventually ordered Sam to get in the truck so he could go back, but he’d refused to move. When Dean had come to his defense and Sam had smiled slightly, John had known the fight was over. He wasn’t going to be able to move Sam. He’d dragged Dean outside, and railed against him, accusing him of putting Sam at risk, and Dean had lost his temper. “You missed a year, Dad. I’ve been taking care of him, and I know what he needs now. He’s not going back!”

That was weeks ago, and while things weren’t back to normal between him and his eldest yet, the softness in Dean’s eyes now made him think maybe they would be.

“You okay?” Dean asked. “What are you doing out here?”

John scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just thinking.”

“About Sammy?”

“Yes and no. I…” He sighed, trying to decide how much to tell his son. “There’s something I need to do.”

“A hunt?” Was it his imagination or did he hear disapproval in Dean’s voice? They hadn’t discussed hunting in weeks. John hadn’t actively searched for cases, but news had come across the wire that there were things happening. Luckily, Bobby was basically a hunters’ switchboard, so he’d been able to pass the cases on to people with less crap going on.

“Not a hunt exactly, maybe a lead on the demon. An old friend called, and she might be able to help.”

“Let’s go then,” Dean said, also anxious for revenge on the demon. “Where is she?”

“Nebraska.”

“Hell, that’s only a few hours away. We can be there and back today. I’ll get Sam and we’ll be good to go.”

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea, Dean,” he said reluctantly, “bringing Sam. He’s not himself right now. I think being dragged out might upset him.”

The softness, the excitement, it all vanished from Dean’s eyes and was replaced by suspicion. “You don’t want to take him?”

“I’m thinking it’ll be better for him if he doesn’t come,” John said sincerely. “He seems happier here.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “I know you don’t believe that. Sam isn’t _happier_ anywhere. He isn’t happy anymore period. What’s he got to be happy about anyway? The fact that he can’t communicate worth a damn? The way he has to play the yes and no game for every damn thing? The fact he wakes up terrified most nights but can’t tell anyone what’s scaring him?”

John didn’t know about the dreams, and initially he was angry with Dean for keeping this from him, but then the back door opened and Sam was revealed. There was no way he hadn’t heard what Dean had said about him. It was obvious in his eyes. He looked sad, sadder than ever, but also betrayed.

“Sammy,” Dean said in a consoling voice.

Sam shook his head jerkily and turned to walk indoors again, but Dean caught his arm. There was no strength in the grip; it was a request to stay rather than a demand. Sam seemed to hover on indecision for a moment, and then he turned back to face them. His eyebrows rose in question, and Dean launched into an explanation.

“Dad’s got a lead on the demon. We’re going to go check it out. You up for it?”

Sam’s expression hardened and he nodded, looking at John as if expecting to him to argue. He would have liked to, but the look in Sam’s eye was as clear as the words he couldn’t speak. _‘I’m doing this.’_

“It’s not a clear lead,” John said. “It’s an old friend who might have more information for us. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, boys. It might be nothing.”

“Or it might be something,” Dean said. “Either way, we’re coming.”

John sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “Okay then.”

xXx

Driving in the Impala with Dean was… different. John had taken his truck, so Dean and Sam followed behind, as they had countless times before. Dean was obviously trying to make it normal, playing the music loud and beating his hands on the steering wheel to _Ramble On,_ but it still felt wrong. Sam couldn’t tell him to turn it down or tease about Dean’s inability to match the beat. All he could do was sit in silence and watch the fields rush past the window. It was worse even than when they were back at Bobby’s as Dean couldn’t even guess at what he was trying to communicate the way he did then. Dean was getting good at it, too. It seemed there were benefits to living in each other’s pockets for a year. They knew each other better than ever before. It wasn’t the same as being able to say what he wanted when he wanted, but it was better than nothing.

In the truck in front of them, John indicated right and Dean copied. They turned onto an old gravel road and Sam was jostled around as the Impala hit potholes and bumps.

“Better not be scratching the undercarriage,” Dean grumbled and Sam laughed softly. What should it matter to Dean if the underside of the car was scratched when the only person that ever saw it was him—Dean never trusted anyone else to take care of the Impala’s maintenance.

Sam was still smiling when Dean pulled the car to a halt in the parking lot of a small roadhouse. He turned to look at Sam as he cut the engine and grinned. Sam knew he had Dean worried and he was counting this smile as an achievement. He was trying to keep a smile on most of the time, to not let on how he was hurting, but he knew he wasn’t succeeding. The depression had its hooks in him and he couldn’t seem to shake it.

“Ready to meet Dad’s mystery woman?” Dean asked with a grin.

Sam nodded.

“Think she’s hot? I’ll lay a fifty on her being a hottie.”

Sam gave an affected shudder. Placing bets on their father’s conquests was gross even for Dean.

“Don’t play innocent, Sammy,” Dean said. “We all know you had a crush on Ms. Kate.”

If Sam could have, he would have pointed out that he was only nine when Ms. Kate had been a fixture for a couple months as the manager of the Illinois motel they’d taken up residence in, and that Sam was pretty sure John had only ever looked twice at her because she gave them a cut rate for their room. Sam had liked her fine because she’d been kind and had taken an interest in his schoolwork. For a couple months, there had been someone other than Dean who cared what grade Sam got on a paper. He’d appreciated it.

He couldn’t say any of that though, so he just shook his head and grimaced.

There was a rap on the window and Sam started. John was peering in and scowling at them. Dean opened the door and John asked, “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Dean said easily. “We were just talking.”

John opened his mouth to answer, but then seemed to think better of it. Sam was sure he knew what question his father had just bitten back: How could you be talking to Sam when he can’t talk back worth a damn?

Scowling, Sam got out of the car and moved peered over the roof at his father.

“You okay, Sam?” he asked.

Sam nodded curtly. He was just fine. He couldn’t talk worth a damn, but that was fine.

Dean glanced askance at him, but Sam refused to meet his eye. The light mood of the car had vanished with John’s interruption.

John rapped on the door to the bar and the door swung open. His mouth set into a grim line and he pulled his gun from his jacket. Dean reached for his own and made for the door but John caught his arm to stop him.

Dean frowned. “What’s going on?”

“I think Ellen’s screwing with me,” he replied in a low voice.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and Sam shrugged. He had no idea what was happening either.

John pushed the door open all the way and went in with his gun held in front of him. “Ellen,” he shouted. “It’s John. I’ve brought the boys.”

“Well, damn,” a voice replied. “There goes our fun.”

Sam and Dean went in and saw a woman with long dark hair standing in front of John, holding a shotgun loosely at her side. She didn’t smile but Sam thought there was a spark in her eyes that showed she would have liked to.

“This is Sam and Dean,” John said, gesturing to them each in turn.

“Well look at you boys,” she said. “You went and grew up. Don’t suppose you remember me, do you?”

Sam shook his head and Dean said, “We’ve met?”

She sighed. “There was a time this bar was a playground for you boys. Never mind. It was a long time ago.” She stepped back. “Well come on in. There’s a couple people I want you to meet.”

Sam hung back so he could walk behind Dean who strutted forward. Sam wondered at the change in his posturing, but then he saw the trigger. There was a pretty young blonde girl leaning against the bar. She looked Dean up and down appraisingly and then smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Dean said smoothly.

Ellen shook her head. “This is my daughter, Jo.”

Dean grinned. “Nice to meet you, Jo.”

“Don’t even think about it Winchester,” Ellen said fixing Dean with a glare. “Touch her and I’ll chop it off.”

Sam ducked his head and smiled. It wasn’t often that Dean got shot down, and the fact it was the mother doing it made it all the funnier.

“Duly noted, Ma’am,” Dean said.

John cleared his throat and Ellen turned back to him. The smile around her eyes faded and she became serious.

“You said in your voicemail that you can help,” John said.

“I can,” Ellen said. “Well, not me so much as Ash.”

“Who’s Ash?” John asked.

Ellen pointed behind her and Sam peered around Dean to see a man curled up on the pool table, fast asleep.

“Ash! We got company,” Jo shouted.

Ash jerked awake and looked blearily over at them. “Well, hey.”

“Ash, this is John Winchester and his boys, Sam and Dean,” Ellen said. “They need help with a demon.”

Ash swung his legs around to the edge of the pool table and slid off smoothly. “Awesome,” he said, no trace of sleepiness in him now. “Let’s get to it then.”

Jo disappeared through a door at the end of the long room and Ash sat himself down at the bar, slapping his hands down on the polished wood.

“I’m coming,” Jo shouted back through the door. A moment later she appeared with a stripped laptop in her hands. The back plate had been removed and wires and chipboards were visible. Sam would have worried about the risk of electrocution from merely touching it, but Ash showed no concern as he began hammering on the keyboard.

Jo sidled over to Dean’s side and asked, “So, what kinda demon you after?”

“The mother killing kind,” Dean said darkly.

She nodded. “Oh. Hunt a lot of demons?”

“A few,” Dean replied.

She looked at Sam. “Been hunting long?”

Sam looked imploringly at Dean and Dean said, “We’ve been in the life since we were kids. Sam took some time off for college, but he’s back in now.”

“What college?” she asked interestedly.

“Stanford,” Dean said, and Sam thought he heard a hint of pride in Dean’s tone.

Jo fixed her eyes on Sam. “Don’t say much, do ya?”

Sam looked away and tried not to let the prickling at his eyes develop into something that would make him look like an even bigger idiot to her.

“Sam can’t talk right now,” Dean said, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room to Sam. He could feel their gaze burning him. He looked at his father, and tried to decipher his expression. It looked almost angry. Angry at him? Or at Sam?

“He had an accident,” John said briskly. “Can’t talk now.”

Sam looked away from his father to the bottles lining the back of the bar. He could practically feel his father’s disappointment like cloying smoke, making it hard to breathe.

“I’m sorry,“ Ellen said sincerely, making Sam’s eyes prickle again. He nodded without looking at her.

“So,” John said. “How can he help us find a demon?”

“Ash…” Jo said. “Ash can find anything if you give him enough details and time. He’s got this program that… I’ll let him tell you.”

Ash fell into an explanation of the program he had set up to follow demon signs. John was nodding and asking questions and even Dean seemed interested, but all Sam could hear was the pulse of shame drumming in his ears. He never expected John to be happy about what had happened to him, but the way he said it so briskly and dismissively, as if it was something shameful that shouldn’t be discussed in public, made Sam squirm. He knew already how much pressure he was adding to his family by being the way he was, but when John had wanted to make the deal for him, he’d thought it had been love driving his father, not disappointment or shame. He wandered away from the group and looked around the bar, anything to distract himself from his loud thoughts.

Then a voice rose louder than the rest, cutting off Ash’s explanation with his gravel, “That’s good and all, but can you find things other than demons, like a… healer?” He glanced back at Sam and there was no mistaking his expression now; it was ashamed.

“Yeah, maybe,” Ash said doubtfully. “I can try anyway.”

Sam crossed the room and snatched the car keys from Dean’s hand. He heard Dean call after him as he yanked open the bar door and strode outside. He knew he was being rude to Ellen and probably embarrassing Dean and John, but he couldn’t stay in that room and listen to John demand a healer for Sam. _This_ was why John had been reluctant to take him to Ellen’s. He wasn’t concerned. He was ashamed. 


End file.
